


run down my heart

by bleep0bleep



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, Awkward Flirting, Current Events, Interns & Internships, M/M, Oblivious Stiles, Supreme Court
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 14:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4224789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleep0bleep/pseuds/bleep0bleep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It doesn’t help that Derek’s also ridiculously smart, sharp and quick with his research, and he’s got this dry humor that no one else gets but Stiles thinks is kind of hilarious. He doesn’t laugh, though, because it would ruin his reputation. He hates Derek, after all, his <i>rival</i>. Stiles hates him, from his hair gel to his shiny expensive dress shoes. Everyone knows you’re supposed to wear running shoes with your work clothes, because the interns always run the court ruling news to the press.<br/><br/><br/>Somehow Stiles and Derek always end up head-to-head during the these runs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	run down my heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KuriKuri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuriKuri/gifts).



> Happy Birthday to the amazing KuriKuri! This is for you, belatedly. 
> 
> Thank you to K, M, and Mel for the beta-reading and the support! 
> 
> I wanted to write something to celebrate the [SCOTUS decision](http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/06/26/supreme-court-gay-marriage_n_7470036.html?utm_hp_ref=tw&utm_source=popsugar.com&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=pubexchange_article) yesterday on marriage equality, but didn't want to do a proposal-type fic. And then I saw this article about the [running of the interns,](http://www.popsugar.com/celebrity/Interns-Running-Deliver-News-Gay-Marriage-Legalization-37785318#photo-37785318) and was inspired. 
> 
> 6/28/15 EDIT: I realize now in hindsight that the interns running [actually work for the media,](http://abcnews.go.com/Politics/survive-supreme-courts-running-interns/story?id=32048301) racing to find a particular correspondent/ network. Adding this note for accuracy, and we'll pretend this story takes place in a universe where the [Judicial Internship Program](http://www.supremecourt.gov/jobs/jip/jip.aspx) includes the responsibility of running the news. \\(^_^)/ 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

No one can ever say Stiles doesn’t bust his ass to get to where he is. He’s never been more proud of getting the highly sought after position of Judicial Intern at the Supreme Court. Sure, his responsibilities aren’t going to have anything to do with cases pending before the Court or the Justices, but he’s going to be in the building, he’ll walk up those marble steps everyday and look at those columns and see the hustle and bustle of suits and robes and paperwork and he’ll be at the forefront of seeing it all happen.

It’s always been his dream to go into policymaking, ever since he was seven years old and his dad, a small-town sheriff, had said “Sorry, kiddo, we can’t visit Auntie Ruth in the hospital.”

“But she’s sick!” Stiles had cried. It hadn’t been long after his mother passed away; and now another family member was at death’s door.

His father had given him a grim look. “We can’t visit her. I’m sorry. Hospital rules says family only.”

This, Stiles didn’t understand. “But she is family.” Auntie Ruth and Auntie Ellie had always lived together, they always brought him awesome birthday presents when they visited, and after his mom died, his dad would often drop him off at their house so they could watch him when he was busy at work.

His dad sighed and ruffled his hair. “I know, kiddo.”

At the end of the hospital hallway, Stiles can see his Auntie Ellie, sitting forlornly in a chair, tears in her eyes, not really looking at anything.

“Well, why can’t we visit her? Why isn’t Auntie Ellie visiting her? They love each other, they should be holding hands so she can feel better!” Stiles stomped his foot on the tiled floor.

“I’m sorry, son, I don’t make the law.”

“Well, who _does?”_

Seven-year-old Stiles didn’t understand the complete complexities of politics and the judicial systems and how laws got made, but he memorized the Schoolhouse Rock song “I’m Just A Bill” and was determined.

Now twenty-one-year-old Stiles knows it’ll be a long time before he’ll have a hand in change, but he’s got his foot in the door with this internship, and he’s rockin’ it so far. He’s not the only one from a small town, or even the only person who went to a public school, but _damn,_ most of the other interns were born with a silver spoon in their mouth.

Like Derek Hale, _yes,_ that Hale, son of Senator Talia Hale. Grew up swimming in money, and his family’s been in politics forever. The first week of their internship Derek had invited all the other interns over to his yacht for a small party. His _yacht._ To go sailing down the Potomac.

Derek had asked Stiles if he wanted to go, and Stiles had scoffed and turned him and his fancy impress-people-with-their-money attitude down. It was the principle of the thing, okay. Plus Stiles isn’t here for charity, and it seemed like Derek was trying to show off how much better he was, give all his little intern friends the chance to see what the other side lived like.

Stiles had heard the other interns talking about that weekend, and Renee from Minnesota did not stop talking about Derek’s abs. For weeks. And how his forearms looked coiling rope and tying knots. Damn. Stiles has enough to think about when Derek rolls up his shirtsleeves, okay?

If Stiles hasn’t had vivid fantasies of rubbing his face over Derek’s artful stubble, and pushing him up against a wall, kissing him senseless, running his hands through that expensive haircut and ruining that perfectly coiffed look, then he’d be lying to himself. Because he has thought about it. A lot.

It doesn’t help that Derek’s also ridiculously smart, sharp and quick with his research, and he’s got this dry humor that no one else gets but Stiles thinks is kind of hilarious. He doesn’t laugh, though, because it would ruin his reputation. He hates Derek, after all, his _rival._ Stiles hates him, from his hair gel to his shiny expensive dress shoes. Everyone knows you’re supposed to wear running shoes with your work clothes, because the interns always run the court ruling news to the press.

Somehow Stiles and Derek always end up head-to-head during these runs It’s awful— Stiles is lighter, he’s faster, he played lacrosse in high school! He still can’t believe Derek beat him to the press last week when they ran the info on the new immigration reform bill.

Five weeks in and Stiles and Derek are three for three on the the race. It’s not really a race, since there are tons of press and you’re likely to find a reporter to talk to even if you’re the last one, but there are _major bragging rights_ for being first. Plus, it’s part of the experience. Youth and enthusiasm, politics coming alive. Stiles lives for it.

Stiles is dropping off a fat folder of his latest research at Minear’s desk when another folder, just slightly thinner than his, gets dropped on the desk.

Stiles chuckles. “Gotta step up your game.”

He leaves the office, Derek right behind him, the door that reads _Counselor to the Chief Justice_ closing behind them.

Derek sighs at him. “Look, Stiles, this competition thing, it’s—”

“Ooh, are you giving up?” Stiles waggles his eyebrows at him.

“That’s not what I —”

Renee rushes past them. “They’ve made a decision! We have to go, hurry!”

Stiles breaks into a run, following her to the office where the interns are given the news. “Which case?”

“Obergefell versus Hodges!”

Stiles’ jaw drops open. “No way, that’s the marriage case!”

The interns are all huddled around the courthouse clerk, Danny, who is being handed a stack of papers from another clerk. Danny starts passing out the papers with the information, and Stiles grabs for one, ecstatic.

Interns are already leaving, door slamming, one after another, interns sprinting down the hallway for the exit, shoes thumping against the marble floor, but Stiles is still reading the decision—

> _No union is more profound than marriage, for it embodies the highest ideals of love, fidelity, devotion, sacrifice, and family. In forming a marital union, two people become something greater than once they were. As some of the petitioners in these cases demonstrate, marriage embodies a love that may endure even past death. It would misunderstand these men and women to say they disrespect the idea of marriage. Their plea is that they do respect it, respect it so deeply that they seek to find its fulfillment for themselves. Their hope is not to be condemned to live in loneliness, excluded from one of civilization’s oldest institutions. They ask for equal dignity in the eyes of the law. The Constitution grants them that right. The judgement of the Court of Appeals for the Sixth Circuit is reversed. It is so ordered._

Bright joy seems to explode in his chest. It always seemed like some far-fetched future, but it’s here, and it’s happened—

“Come, on, Stiles!”

Derek’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and Derek is already running. Stiles takes a deep breath and hurls himself towards the exit, running with a fierce resolve. He folds the sheet of paper in half and runs like he’s never run before; air rushes past him and Stiles can hear nothing but the beat of his heart, the way his tie is flopping on his chest, and then he’s almost out of the building.

The usual crowd of gawkers outside the building start cheering when they see the other interns; today they’re a distant hum of noise, nothing matters more than sharing this information. Stiles wants to shout it from all the rooftops, but he’s got a job to do.

Derek is ahead of him, but only just, and Stiles puts on a burst of speed. Not today, of all days, is he gonna let this guy beat him.

The hot bright sunlight blinds him as soon as he’s outside, but Stiles keeps running anyway, throwing himself down the steps as his vision adjusts.

There are too many interns ahead of him and he knows he won’t make first, but he can at least beat Derek.

The next thing Stiles knows, is he’s falling down the stairs because he missed a step. He tumbles down the stairs, knocking down the person in front of him, both of them rolling down the stairs until Stiles is on his back.

Derek is on top of him, warm and solid, and _oh,_ those are his hips flush against Stiles’ own.

Stiles expects him to look angry for getting toppled to the ground, and already he can hear the other interns talking to the reporters, the noise of people cheering, cameras clicking. One clumsy moment and Stiles made them both miss out on getting the news out.

Except Derek is beaming; the smile transforms his entire face, and he looks happier than Stiles has ever seen him at this job.

“Isn’t it amazing,” Derek says, looking up now at the crowds by the building, cheering at the news.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, and as the noise increases, and the reality of what just happens settles in, he could care less about being first or bragging rights. He’s just happy; that love will be recognized, that it’s protected, that every person around them cheering and waving are feeling an extension of the same ecstatic happiness running through his veins, that Derek is on top of him and doesn’t seem to want to move. Around them, the crowds are bursting with euphoric energy, waving flags, crying, cheering, kissing. The joy is infectious, and he can’t help but grin back at Derek.

They stare at each other for a good minute, until Stiles finally says, “I’m sorry I tripped on you. I know you like to win whenever we run the news.”

Derek frowns. “I don’t care about winning. I just liked having fun running against you and teasing you. I’m not really good at flirting, but I just… try really hard with you, I guess.”

“Wait… _flirting?_ With me?”

Derek nods. “I asked you out, and then you ranted at me for twenty minutes about capitalism and Renee felt sorry for me so she convinced everyone else to come to a ‘party’ so I wouldn’t look lame just asking you and having you reject me.”

“That was a date?” Stiles squeaks. “Oh gosh. I mean, I don’t take back anything of what I said about your privilege of wealth, but I totally thought that whole yacht thing was making fun of us who didn’t have one!”

Derek shakes his head.

“Just… be more obvious,” Stiles mutters.

“How’s this?” Derek grabs him by the chin and kisses him soundly on the mouth.

Stiles feels lightheaded, reveling in the warm touch of his lips, the press of Derek’s body on his own. He wraps his arms around Derek, kissing back for all he’s worth.

 

 

**Twenty Years Later**

 

Stiles finishes signing the last of the scholarship awards for his youth leadership program members, his name a broad, looping scrawl by the space that reads _Stiles Stilinski,  Assemblymember, 49th District_. He sighs and looks at the mound of paperwork he still has to finish for tonight. In the corner of his office, the television is quietly announcing, “And today on June twenty-sixth, we celebrate the twentieth anniversary of the Supreme Court decision…”

Stiles stretches, pulling the first bill he needs to go over and settling in for another long night at the office.

There’s a rap on his door, and Stiles says, “Come on in.” He fixes his tie, trying not to yawn and wonders if he had any appointments at this time.

Derek walks into his office, raising his eyebrows when he sees the mound of paperwork on the desk. “Hey.”

The smile is automatic; as always, Derek’s a sight for sore eyes. “Hello there.”

Derek scoots the paperwork aside and sits on Stiles desk, reaching for him.

“Babe, I’m busy right now. You see this pile—”

Derek kisses him, soft and slow, and Stiles lets himself melt into the touch. “Happy anniversary.”

“Anniversary— what, no, Derek, we got married in October, what are you talking about—”

Derek laughs. “Not of when we got married. When we started dating. This day.” He grabs one of the photographs off Stiles’ desk, the one in a slim black frame, tucked behind the larger family photos of them and their daughters. This one pictures the steps of the Supreme Court, filled with people celebrating and waving flags with various slogans. In the center of the picture, there are two men— boys, really— young in their ill-fitting suits, sprawled out on the ground, locked in a happy kiss.

Stiles takes the photo and sets it back on his desk fondly. “That was a good day.”

“The kids are at camp, and I’ve got dinner for us on the yacht waiting for us. This can all wait until tomorrow.”

“The yacht? You gave that away, I remember.”

“And I borrowed it back for tonight. Come on, I thought it would be romantic.” Derek smiles at him.

“You’re a sap.”

“I’m your sap,” Derek says, leaning in for another kiss.

“My secretary is going to have my head if we have sex in here again,” Stiles whispers.

“Did I mention we have the boat _all_ night?”

Stiles laughs and holds out his hand to help Derek off the desk, stroking his cheek and the slight grey streaked in his beard. Derek smiles back at him, lines wrinkling at the corner of his eyes. He looks good for his age, and Stiles is just reminiscing how hot his husband is when Derek lets go his hand and says, “Race you!” He sprints towards the exit gleefully.

Stiles splutters and starts chasing him. “I knew it, you do like the competition, you ass!”

Derek laughs. “Maybe your ass! Winner picks positions, let’s go!”

Their shoes scrape against the marble flooring of the hallway, and when they finally make it out the building, the late afternoon light is blinding, and all Stiles can see is Derek’s silhouette and a bright future.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm on [tumblr,](http://bleep0bleep.tumblr.com) if you want to say hi.


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